Montreal, May 2, 199
It's lovers day today, down in the vieux Port of Montreal, and through the city, under clear blue skies and sunwarmth that makes you wish you were again a child and could go about naked, ... paddling in still-cool wading pools and rolling in the new grass. Thousands of people of all shapes, ages and sizes are in the streets and cafes, ... liberated from their winter incarceration, and are they happy!, .... and are they in the mood for love!
'.. fait beau, eh?', .. someone I know-not says to me, and I respond in kind, as I dodge the roller skaters and bicycles, as everyone is doing, ... happily. Playgrounds on the flanc of le Mont still have their mini-glaciers, ... winter snows trampled with happy little feet to the point of becoming ice flows, ... still a foot thick where they lie in the shadows, near where the little ones are now licking ice creams and sweating in the hot sun.
The chairs and umbrellas have billowed out and filled with people overnight along restaurant allee on Prince Arthur, and the fairway, closed to cars, is filled with an animated flow of humanity which colours and flavors the atmosphere and wafts over to those, like me, sitting along the side, having a smoke and a drink, after having been made love to by the bilingual words of a cute, smiling serveuse, ... and sampling the air like a dog does when the neighbour is cooking barbecue.
Summer has arrived, .. .and so has summer love, and it is infectious. Numerous people are sharing their smiles and one can see that they have caught it, ... their hearts are swollen many times the normal size and having looked out on this, ... I caught it too, and my heart began inflating involuntarily, like one of those 1950's inflatable bra's that they forgot to test for airline travel.
Where am I going to take this love? A few years ago, I might have taken it into despair if I were on my own and couldn't share it intimately, but a lot of water has passed beneath my bridge since then, ... and while the bitter-sweet resonance of Rumi's love dog is in me, ... , so is the understanding of Laborit and how the pain comes to those entranced by 'action-inhibition', and how one needs to go for it, ... for action, and here I am, letting my energies flow through my fingers into these words. No, it's not Bruce Willis or James Bond action, ... but so what, ... any port in a storm, as they say, that's the whole intermogular point!
How clear it is to me what Laborit says, ... what I knew already, but what he gave me new words for, ... that our reality is spheres within spheres which continually inform and pull on each other. Our real world is not push, it is pull.
The heartsize of Montreal, as is it warmed by the sun, is pulled out and opened up by the goodsoul of its enveloping mothersphere, Quebec, and by the countryside which knows no political boundaries, ... and the heartsize of Quebec is pulled out and opened up by the goodsoul of its enveloping mothersphere, Canada, and by the countryside which knows no political boundaries, .... and the heartsize of Canada is pulled out and opened up by the goodsoul of the United States-Canada-Mexico and by the north american countryside, which knows no political boundaries, and on and out it goes, over the atlantic and pacific, ... asia, europe, africa, arabia, india, australia.
Montreal is in a canoe in a stream which is going somewhere, .... but Montreal has paddles too, and on a day like today, I am on that paddling team and we are all sensing where we need to go and it is not to let ourselves drift with the current.
There are a thousand islands in the Saint Laurent, ... and there are parties on some and prisons and trouble on others. I want to party, and so does everyone else here, and I can hear the music over the water, and so can they.
My love-compass tells me to steer away from 'cause', 'judgement', 'control', ... and paddle on over towards the music and the harmony, and you can't tell me that the guards on prison island are going to be content to stay there after hearing the party giggles and guitars going on all night and all day, ... why beat a dead horse?, ... do the stripling trees in the forest commit themselves to the dead wood from whence they spring?, ... or do they use it to to give themselves direction, to nourish their boughs and grow their leaves so that they too can enjoy a place in the sun, ... to sniff-and-play in the fresh breeze. I can smell perfume when I go into the forest, and hear the rustling and snickering of branches and leaves, ... I know what they're up to, .... they're having fun, and why not?
Science taught me about matter and energy, and I kind of believed them, in spite of how serious it all was, ... , but that's all changed. They missed it, ... at least my teachers did, ... they missed all the parties, because they couldn't make sense of them, ... parties didn't fit and something had to give, ... hey, and wise men they are too, eh?
Now I'll go so far, but no farther, and it's true that my science job said that parties didn't exist, and I said, 'yes sir', 'gotcha sir', ... but winked at my friends and they winked back at me, .... and in the space between the equations, we danced and sang and made some parties. And guess what, ... they didn't even see, because parties don't exist in science, right, ... and equations can't stand on their own shoulders and see what's going on, right? Goedel found out about that, but the party thing didn't click for him, too bad.
Science says that all things are due to 'cause', ... well maybe so, and maybe not, ... because what about that '50's bra?, .... what did those scientists miss with their causal theories?.... that things can come alive without pushing themselves into existence, ... that 'stuff' happens instead, by being charmed into being by an immersing atmosphere? Come on, admit it, science. Science considers only the behavior of things, not the behavior of things as induced by their immersing atmo-sphere, ... that's an intermogular space-time exercise, and its a blast, and that's what makes it out-of-bounds for science.
Science doesn't even consider that whatever it's looking at is enclosed in something. Hey, as Henri Laborit says, ... one doesn't have to graduate from a 'grand ecole' to know that the atmosphere one is immersed in has an impact on the immersed. But ya see, .... that's curved space stuff, and science, and businessmen and politicians, and Popes and tout ce type, ... they don't like curved space.
Fair enough, ... so don't come to Montreal and don't come to summer love, ... don't pass Go nor collect your 200 Simolas, ... just stay in your lab figuring out how to descend far enough down into the detail of that 'thing' you're looking at, in the hopes that by so doing, you'll discover what you're both immersed in. What did Lennon say? ... '.. life is what happens to you while you're busy making other plans.' But what a shame if you don't even look up, not even to catch a glimpse of your own co-evolution.
Meanwhile, I'm paddling as fast as I can, considering I've got a beer between my legs and a ciggie in my mouth and I'm akindof rocking to the music on that island I'm paddling to, .... Hey, .. I've got my summer love and it's a trip!
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